


make you never wanna leave

by fairytalelights



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Minor Sexuality Crisis, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Harry, Omega Louis, Omega/Omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17895560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalelights/pseuds/fairytalelights
Summary: “But that's fine?” Now Louis just looks confused. “There are so many ways you can have fun sex. Wetness is helpful but not a requirement.”Harry can feel his face heating up. The way Louis saidfun sex, like it's that easy, like he has all the experience. He might be a year older than Harry, but Harry's not quite sure if age is the only factor at play here. He doesn't know why the thought of Louis having sex makes his heart start to race again and he especially doesn't know why the next thing he blurts out is, “You could show me.”or, Harry is an omega teen who has trouble getting wet even when he's turned on, Louis is his omega best friend who helps him experiment. In a completely platonic way, of course.





	make you never wanna leave

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is finally ready to be posted! I've always wanted to write an abo fic and I'm glad this exchange gave me the perfect opportunity to. Thank you to [1dgaybofest](https://1dgayboficfest.tumblr.com) for organizing this!  
> Also thank you to my biggest cheerleader and beta, Jana, and my less-than-enthusiastic-about-abo sister who still read it, Niki!
> 
> A few small warnings: There is a bit of under-negotiated sex (with the beginning of d/s dynamics if you squint), but it's all very consensual and there are check ins constantly! They are 17 and 18 in this (so not a two year gap, like in real life, mostly because it worked better with their school system, which gave me a headache). I haven't tagged this as underage, because in my country (and in theirs) it's not and this is just two young adults who are nearly the same age experimenting with each other and figuring things out about their feelings and sexuality along the way! If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea it might be best to skip this fic though! (Also keep in mind that these are teenage boys who sometimes say and do stupid things!)  
> Okay, that's all, hope you enjoy!

“God, you're so wet,” groans the alpha on the screen in front of Harry, knuckles deep in his omega partner.

Harry wishes he could relate. He is decidedly _not_ wet.

Looking at the alpha's bulging muscles isn't really doing it for him, neither is imagining himself on a bed with that dickhead.

He tries to relax and think about what _he_ would want out of a sexual experience. He decidedly _likes_ the idea of getting fucked, getting filled up. Slowly, he starts to feel his breath quicken and his palms getting damp as soon as manages to block out the alpha in the porn, just concentrating on his own fantasy of lying there and taking it, a faceless person above him. Now, he's definitely turned on. In theory.

In practice, he is still dry. He sighs and pauses the video, just starts lazily circling his rim with his finger. Still no slick.

He _knows_ he is capable of producing it. During his heats, even though he's only had two so far, and they are a foggy memory of writhing on a knotted dildo, he knows he didn't have to use lube. He knows his body can get wet in theory. Therefore this is not a question for his doctor, it's one he has to figure out for himself.

Why can't he get wet when he's turned on? The internet hasn't been helpful so far. Most sites suggest that he's supposed to just give it a bit of time. He's only seventeen and a bit of a late bloomer on top of that, having had only two heats thus far. The online omega forum where he's posted an anonymous comment was full of seemingly condescending adults who seem to be of the opinion that seventeen year olds are literal children and shouldn't be partaking in such discussions anyway, much less be worried about being able to get wet. That, shockingly, hadn't stopped Harry from worrying.

Feeling himself slip into a bad mood, he decides that dwelling on it isn't gonna get him off right now either. Disappointed, he takes his fingers away from his hole again and just rubs his dick for a while, letting his thoughts drift between the people in the porn video he's started back up and his own hazy imagination of how he'd fit into the scene he's watching right now.

He comes rather quickly after that, proving the porn wasn't the problem after all. He sighs and closes the laptop. One of these days he's gonna have to stop watching porn in which omegas orgasm from being fucked alone, without their dicks being touched once; something he _knows_ will never happen for him. Today is not that day.

 

 

In all honesty, Harry is getting frustrated. If there is one thing the omegas he goes to school with pride themselves on, it's their stupid ability to get wet to “please their alphas”. Whatever that means. Harry doesn't feel the burning need to please an alpha right now, but maybe, if one were to come along in the future, being able to get wet would be nice.

Right now, he tells himself that his main problem is only trying to make masturbating nicer and easier. That's better to focus on than the doubts and insecurities in his head that whisper _you're not like other omegas,_ _you think about the wrong stuff when you get off, you can't even get wet properly, how will you ever find anyone if you can't even get turned on imagining getting fucked by an alpha_.

Because that's the thing. No matter how much a/o porn he watches, he can't get turned on by just thinking about an alpha trying to fuck him. He has to specifically stop thinking about the alpha at all and just think about the scenario in a very abstract way to be able to come.

There's other stuff that creeps into his subconscious while he masturbates though. Stuff he tells himself does not turn him on. Plump lips and wide hips, and getting to taste slick- _Stop_.

 

These are all problems he can't fix right now.

So he focuses on the easy problem to fix: his wetness. After all, lube was invented for a reason.

The idea of going into a drug store alone to buy lube, getting eyed by other older, curious customers, is daunting. Ordering some on the internet is out of the question because his mum would 100% see the package and pry.

So there's only one solution, only one person he can call.

 

 

Louis Tomlinson is quite possibly the most beautiful human being Harry has ever laid eyes on. But since he's his best friend, and they are both omegas, it's not weird at all to think about how pretty he is. After all, they compliment each other on their looks all the time. Harry just sometimes feels like he's taking the whole BFF-thing too far, that someday Louis is gonna start finding it creepy for whatever reason and ask Harry to tone it down. It hasn't happened so far, though.

Not even when Harry cried the day Louis was done with Secondary school and had to transfer to a different school for his A-levels, the same school Harry now also attended. They were only separated for a year, he was being ridiculous. Louis apparently didn't think so, because he just cuddled him close and promised him nothing would change and that he'd always be there for Harry, no matter what.

So far, he's always kept that promise.

This _minor issue_ turns out to be no different, because when Harry calls Louis at 11pm that night to ask him if he wants to accompany him to go lube shopping in the morning, the answer isn't anything but an enthusiastic and slightly chuckled yes.

 

That's why they are now standing in a supermarket aisle, a place that Louis insisted was as good as any other to buy condoms and lube and gave you the benefit of anonymity.

“Nobody cares what other people buy in the supermarket, Haz. It's just boring stuff anyway.”

Harry would disagree, mostly because he's still wondering what a woman he saw years ago, buying vaseline, a six-pack of Mountain Dew and a can of blue spray paint, had done with the rest of her evening.

But Louis seemed so enthusiastic and not at all ashamed of being an omega going out to buy lube, that Harry kept his mouth shut. He supposes Louis doesn't have to be ashamed of anything. He's not the one who has problems with getting wet.

 

Right now, Harry tries to subtly eye Louis while he's standing in front of a wall of lubricant, seemingly deep in thought about what flavour would be best suited to Harry's needs.  
As always, he can't quite read Louis' expression. Is he annoyed with Harry? Is he thinking about how pathetic it is that Harry can't even buy lube on his own? Or worse, is he disgusted by the whole thing?  
Harry feels his breath start to quicken and his hands getting clammy. Stupid thought spirals.

“Hey, how about–” Louis turns around, a bottle in his hand that looks like a unicorn vomited rainbows and glitter all over it. “–this one,” he trails off when he sees Harry futilely trying to look like he isn't fighting off an anxiety-induced panic attack right now. Here, in the middle of a Sainsbury's aisle, in front of a wall stocked with lube and condoms.

“Darling, what's wrong?” Louis always does this, calling Harry things like _love_ and _sweetheart_ and _darling_ , but that's just the way he talks so Harry doesn't know why it makes him feel all warm and good inside. He firmly wraps his arms around Harry, in the way that he always does when he knows Harry is feeling panicked.

They are probably getting a few weird looks right now, but Louis has never cared about this kind of thing and Harry is too busy burying his face in Louis' chest and breathing him in to notice much around him.

Louis gives him space and lets him concentrate on his breathing for a while, before he nudges Harry gently again, his way of asking if Harry is alright and if he wants to talk about. They have never needed a lot of words between them.

“'s just stupid, innit?” Harry mumbles. “Embarrassing. Sorry I dragged you here.”

“Hey, look at me,” Louis says with a firm voice and takes Harry's face between his hands. “There is nothing embarrassing about needing lube once in a while. I, for one, always get flavoured one, because it just makes it so much easier to fuck myself with toys outside of heat–”

“Louis,” Harry hisses. “We're in public.”

“The old lady over there doesn't care,” Louis states bluntly, causing the woman, who has eyed them suspiciously for a while now, to turn away.

“Come on now, do you want something with flavour so you can lick it off afterwards?”

“Wouldn'tneeditonceinawhile,” Harry says quietly.

“What was that?” Louis asks, louder than Harry of course.

“I said,” Harry repeats, getting frustrated, “that I wouldn't need it once in a while. I'd need it every time outside of my heats. I... can't get wet.” He gets quieter towards the end again, his confidence dimming.

“Oh,” Louis says. “ _Oh_ ,” he repeats a bit louder.

“Are you asexual, love? That's totally fine, you know I would never have a problem with something like that.”

“No,” Harry answers, a bit of anger bleeding into his tone. He knows why Louis assumed that, and he's just trying his best, but he's just tired of trying to fit into a box, of trying to put himself in a box.

“I just don't get wet.”

“But that's fine?” Now Louis just looks confused. “There are so many ways you can have fun sex. Wetness is helpful but not a requirement.”

Harry can feel his face heating up. The way Louis said _fun sex_ , like it's that easy, like he has all the experience. He might be a year older than Harry, but Harry's not quite sure if age is the only factor at play here. He doesn't know why the thought of Louis having sex makes his heart start to race again and he especially doesn't know why the next thing he blurts out is, “You could show me.”

He immediately wants to take it back as soon as he says it. Doesn't even know why he said it, just that it seems like there's a lot depending on what Louis' answer is. He starts chewing on his bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to get out of this mess without embarrassing himself even further.

Louis doesn't push him away, like Harry half-expected, but he doesn't look very enticed by the idea either.

“I'm... are you... do you want that?” Louis stutters.

Harry is too afraid to look Louis in the eyes, but he figures there's no turning back now. He nods, slowly. “Yes. It makes sense, doesn't it? You're eighteen, you've had lots of sex. I don't know what I'm doing. I wouldn't even know how to use the lube properly. Lots of omegas practice with each other.” He wants to wince as soon as the words are out, _practice_ sounding cheap and stupid, but he doesn't take them back.

Louis still looks sceptical. “If... you're sure...” he says slowly, with an upward inflection at the end that makes it sound more like a question.

Harry wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He doesn't think he's the _worst_ person to have sex with. Sure, Louis probably wants a handsome and strong alpha; Harry is the exact opposite of that. But until Louis finds that handsome and strong alpha (who is probably gonna be an _asshole_ and Harry is gonna have to pretend to like him, _ugh_ ), Harry doesn't consider himself _disgusting._

“You don't have to,” he rushes out. “I'm sorry I asked, this was a stupid idea, forget about it.”

Louis' face is unreadable, but he doesn't look all that thrilled with that option either.

“Let me think about it, okay? I'm gonna call you.” He grabs about five tubes of lube. “Come on, let's pay for these.”

Harry's face is burning red with shame when he stands in front of the cashier. He doesn't quite know if that's because of the large amount of lube he's buying or because Louis basically just – in the gentlest way possible – rejected him. He's just wondering – in a sort of morbidly curious way – why it hurts so much.

 

 

Louis doesn't call for two days. Harry cycles through a few phases of emotions: fear, embarrassment, guilt, but after a while, he settles on anger. How _dare_ Louis treat him like this. Sure, Harry's preposition was blunt and he honestly regrets ever mentioning it, but if Louis wants to end their friendship over something like this, they clearly didn't have the strong bond Harry thought they had.

It's not _his_ fault Louis thinks he's hideous and unattractive. It's not like Harry doesn't shower regularly. (Although, to be fair, he hasn't in two days, but that's only because he's wallowing in misery, he's allowed to skip showers and only eat ice cream.)

Harry doesn't want to think about why this fleeting idea that came to him in the middle of a supermarket isle is consuming all of his thoughts. Before that moment, he had never quite admitted to himself that, while Louis seemed to think sex with him was the worst thing in the world, _Harry_ felt a little more than curiosity at the thought of sleeping with his best friend.

 _Attraction_ , the annoying little voice in the back of Harry's head helpfully supplies. And no matter how hard he's tried to submerge that thought under a load of sad romcoms and ice cream in the last few days, this at least is something he has to admit to himself. He just doesn't quite know how to deal with it yet.

 

So when Louis finally _does_ call, Harry isn't quite sure how to react. All of that anger that he's built up over the last few days seems useless now, because Louis _has called_.

“I've been thinking,” he starts when Harry answers the phone, “And you were right, friends need to help each other out. Not doing it would be entirely selfish of me and I'm not a selfish person, and a good friend. The _best_. So, are your parents out of the house at any time this weekend? I'm gonna come over.”

Harry's jaw goes slack. He can only manage a weak, “U-huh,” and, “This evening,” in response, before Louis has hung up again.

Harry has the daunting feeling that he may have just gotten his way, but not in the way he'd imagined.

 

 

Harry has made a grave mistake. This whole practice thing was a horrible idea and he should have known that from the start. Now, surrounded by five bottles of different flavoured lube that he's neatly arranged on the bed – on sheets that he's just changed for the third time – he's _sure_ this whole thing is gonna go horribly wrong.

He should have just used that lube to masturbate more efficiently, maybe for one of the dildos that he always shamefully locks away in between heats.

“Harry, we're going, see you tomorrow!” his mum calls from downstairs. “Tell Louis I said hi, you kids can order pizza, I've left you some money on the counter!”

That's the good thing about doing this with another omega, who also happens to be his best friend. His mum doesn't think twice about them having a weekend sleepover.

“Bye,” Harry shouts back nervously, already texting Louis that he can come over now. The only thing to do now is wait. And maybe arrange the bottles of lube in a different order again.

 

“Wow Harold, did you redecorate?” is the first thing Louis says when he enters Harry's bedroom half an hour later. Harry blushes. He did, in fact, take down a lot of posters, put on a different pair of bedsheets and emptied the bin. For some reason, he just doesn't want Louis to notice how much of an effort he put into this.

“So,” he starts nervously, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Where do you want me?” Immediately, he cringes. Maybe it's a good thing they are doing this practice thing. He's clearly _the worst_ at sex already and they haven't even started yet.

“Just, on the bed?” Louis asks, and he sounds unsure as well, which calms Harry down a little.

“Can I... are you okay with kissing?” Louis asks, after Harry has managed to successfully drape himself over the bedsheets in what he hopes to be a seductive manner.

“Yeah,” Harry answers honestly. He might be a virgin, but at least he once kissed a beta girl during Truth or Dare when he was thirteen. With tongue, so it definitely counts.

Two seconds later, when Louis presses his lips onto Harry's, he decides that his first kiss definitely _doesn't_ count. This is in a completely different league.

Louis' mouth is soft and gentle on his, his tongue exploring and leading, but not pressuring in any way. _Nothing could compare to this feeling_ , Harry finds himself thinking. _Nothing._

They kiss for what feels like ages, soft and sweet, until Harry is so hard he starts squirming with every movement of Louis' tongue. So much that Louis seems to decide it's time to move further down. Which actually just means he starts kissing his neck.

And then, after Louis gently takes off both of their shirts, down his chest, circling his nipples with tiny kitten licks that make Harry go absolutely insane. Louis seems to press kisses to every part of Harry's body, taking his time completely taking him apart until Harry is so dizzy with the need to come that he honestly doesn't care how at this point.

Louis takes his time with every single task, pressing kisses so gently and softly, but in all the right places; pulling Harry's jeans and briefs down slowly, teasingly.

When Louis finally gets his mouth on Harry's dick, Harry is close to sobbing with relief.

Louis though, of course, stops after a few licks. Harry is going to _cry_.

“Haven't forgotten what we're here for, have you, baby?” Louis teases and reaches for the bottle of lube. Harry moans, but he can't tell if it's because of the idea of Louis using the lube or because of the pet-name. A bit of both, probably.

To his surprise, Louis just starts sucking his dick again. If Harry's brain hadn't completely turned to mush at the moment, he'd ask about it, but since Louis must know what he's doing, he decides to just trust him and sinks back into the pillows.

“Gonna be a bit cold for a second there, love,” Louis warns when he resurfaces and Harry doesn't even have the time to open his mouth before Louis pushes his index finger inside of him. _Then_ he adds a second one shortly after and then _his mouth_ is back on Harry's cock and it's too much.

Harry comes with groan, feeling like he's completely falling apart, but that's okay because Louis is here and Louis will put him back together.

“Y'haven't come yet,” Harry slurs as soon as he's able to string words together again.

“Oh darling,” Louis grins, “That's okay, give me your hand, if you want to?”

He sounds unsure again, like Harry would deny him his pleasure, after he's given Harry the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life by just sucking his cock and fingering him a little.

Harry just nods, so Louis just jerks himself off with Harry's hand, rubbing himself on his thigh. And he's _wet_ , Harry can feel Louis' slick _dripping_ down his thigh and he has the intense urge to taste it, lick it from his own thigh and then directly from Louis.

Harry feels useless, just lying there exhausted, while Louis gets his pleasure, but for some reason it also makes him want to get hard again, the thought of being _used_ , Louis moving his body where he wants it, where it's the most convenient for him.

“So good for me, darling,” Louis groans just before he comes, and Harry's mind latches onto that, _Louis says I was good_ playing on repeat in his head before he puts his free hand on his own cock and comes for the second time.

 

 

“Wow,” Harry breathes. “Is it always this good?”

“Well,” Louis giggles. “I don't think everyone's a sex god, as I am.”

“Idiot,” Harry laughs and playfully punches him in the arm. “But, no, I'm serious. I can't imagine it'll ever be better. This is already perfection. How would anything ever compare?”

For some reason, Louis frowns at those words and shuffles around on the bed for quite a while, until he has seemingly made himself comfortable, his back to Harry.

“It'll probably be better in the future,” Louis says. Harry has to strain himself to make out the sentence because Louis says it more to the wall than to him.

He scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion. “I thought I just complimented you? I wasn't one-hundred percent serious, I bet there are still lots of new, equally amazing things we can try.”

Louis mumbles something in response Harry can't make out, his back still turned.

“What was that?” Harry asks. He's getting frustrated. This is not how he thought their after-sex cuddling would go.

“I said,” Louis says, louder this time, and a hint of _something_ bleeding into his tone, “That it'll probably be better with an alpha in the future. This is just practice. An alpha would be more compatible, I'm sure.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Harry says. He knew Louis wanted to be with an alpha in the future. He knew he was just doing Harry a favour with this. So he has absolutely no idea why he's getting teary over this stupid throwaway comment.

 _Of course_ , Harry's not as good at sex with Louis as an alpha would be. His stupid dick doesn't have a stupid knot. He never wanted one, was never made to feel less because he's an omega. Except in this moment, he feels like he is. He just never thought _Louis_ would be the one to make him feel that way.

Silently, Harry turns around so his back is to Louis as well, neither of them starting the conversation back up again, but neither of them getting up to leave the bed either.

It takes Harry a long time to fall asleep after that.

 

 

The next morning, both of them pretend their awkward post-coital conversation never happened and fall right back into friends-with-benefits bliss.

At least, that's what Harry's choosing to call the three orgasms Louis gives him with his mouth and his fingers before he's even had the chance to form a thought about reciprocating.

There's a lot of lube involved, but Harry doesn't even think about whether all the wetness he felt was artificial or not. Louis didn't mention it once, so Harry doesn't feel the need to either. It feels... good. _Safe_.

 

 

After a few days of squeezing alone time in between school and Harry's job at the bakery, staying over at each other's houses even more often than they've done in primary school, Harry starts to wonder if Louis only wants to have sex that often because he's expecting some kind of improvement.

Maybe he thinks if he just touches Harry's hole often enough, gives him as many mind-blowing orgasms as possible, his body will automatically start producing slick and this whole thing will be over.

Maybe he just wants to get it out of the way as fast as possible.

The thing is, Harry knows that _this_ is the exact thing holding him back. The reason he isn't able to completely let go during sex is that little nagging worry that tells him he's not good enough and that Louis is gonna leave him any minute now. Of course, Louis wouldn't just stop being _friends_ with him over some bad sex. He'd just... stop the _benefits_ part.

He doesn't know when that thought has started to become so scary.

 

“Darling,” Louis whispers one evening after about a week of fooling around. They are in Harry's bed again because it's easier to get some alone time in here than in Louis' house full of people. “Will you let me fuck you?”

Immediately Harry tenses up and goes still all over.

He honestly doesn't know why they haven't done that yet. It isn't that Harry doesn't _want_ to. He definitely, one-hundred percent wants to. There's just this niggling fear that Louis doesn't even want to fuck him, that he's an omega and he must want to get fucked instead and Harry would _love_ to do that for him, but he honestly won't be any good at it and–

“We don't have to,” Louis rushes out when it becomes clear that Harry isn't going to answer him. “It was just an idea, I thought you might want to... practice that.”

There it is. _Practice_. The damned word that made the best week of Harry's life possible, but is also starting to become a great source of resentment.

But there is no real choice here, at least not for Harry.

He can only choke out a breathless, “Yes, please,” before he gravitates towards Louis again, their lips crashing together with more skill – at least on Harry's side – than before, but still with the same enthusiasm.

Harry's expecting a repeat of last week, Louis gently and carefully riling him up, the way he's done almost the entire time they've been doing this. Almost like he's trying to _coax_ the slick out of Harry.

But today, he whispers, “Can we try something different, love? Just tell me if it gets too much, okay?” and Harry can just nod; nod and go along with whatever it is Louis wants to do because there isn't a universe in which Harry would ever deny him anything he asks for. Especially in _that_ voice.

“Hold your hands above your head,” Louis instructs and Harry almost forgets to breathe for a minute because what good did he do in a past life to deserve _Louis Tomlinson_ , who's almost scarily good at reading him and has apparently realized how much Harry wants to be told what to do during sex.

“Gonna get you wet now,” Louis promises, but he isn't reaching for the bottle of lube and before Harry can feel panicked or pressured, because of course, _he_ certainly isn't providing the wetness, Louis _licks into his hole_.

Harry's first thought is to panic, because Is That A Thing People Do?

But then he stops being able to think altogether and his entire being is reduced to _Louis, tongue_ and _heaven_.

He doesn't know how long Louis spends licking into him, he just knows that it's wet and mind-blowing and _sensational_. He wants to blame his teenage hormones for all of the mushy thoughts that float around his brain in that moment, but he'd probably have them at any age, just because of Louis, because of how good Louis is at this.

For a second he finds himself wondering where Louis learned this, did he do this before– but then another wave of sensation rushes over him and he's back to not thinking at all.

Eventually, Louis stops eating him out for the sole purpose of eating him out and actually starts opening him up, adding fingers and actual lube and it hits Harry that this is it, he's gonna lose his virginity, he's actually getting fucked.

It's not how he imagined it would happen. He always thought it would be with an alpha, and they'd already be mated or at least courting, not a practice-friends-with-benefits arrangement with another omega.

In this moment, he wouldn't want anyone else, though. His fantasies from the past were just that – fantasies. An imagination of scenarios he isn't sure he ever even really wanted. Reality is sweeter than he could have ever prepared for.

So when Louis finally pushes into him, both of them sweaty and panting, Harry already half-delirious with want, he has to admit to himself that this feeling doesn't just come from being fucked. It's that he's being fucked by _Louis_. Soft, gentle Louis, who's currently setting a fast, not-so-gentle pace, maybe spurred on by Harry moaning, “Harder, Lou, please, can take it, not gonna break.”

It's a cliché line he's sure he's stolen from porn, but Harry's never felt more genuine while saying anything else in his life.

Harry wants to spend the rest of his life here, in this moment, being fucked by another omega, if that omega is Louis Tomlinson.

“Darling, come for me,” Louis whispers, and Harry _comes_ , because _anything_ , he'd do anything for Louis in this moment.

Because, as hard as it is to admit to himself, he is head over heels in love with Louis Tomlinson.

 

 

As world-changing as that revelation is for Harry, surprisingly little actually changes between him and Louis at first.

Exam season draws near, so they have less and less time for each other, but when they do, Harry makes an effort to convince Louis to go see movies or out for dinner, to avoid alone time with him. He just doesn't know how to sleep with him anymore now that he's stopped denying his feelings to himself. The thought of pretending to not love Louis during sex is a scary prospect.

Of course, avoiding alone time with Louis doesn't actually work forever, because Harry is _weak_ and Louis just smells so good and inviting all the time and he's _in love with him_.

Also, Harry's heats don't come regular at all yet, so he's either a few months away from his next one still, or it might come next week. So he can basically blame everything he does between now and his next heat on “pre-heat-hormones”.

Which explains how he ends up in the backseat of Louis' tiny car, which is definitely not suited for such activities. His pants are around his ankles and Louis has somehow managed to find a working blowjob position. It would all be very uncomfortable, if it wasn't so scorching hot.

After coming down from his orgasm (come swallowed by Louis in _its entirety_ , so nothing landed on the upholstery), Harry feels euphoric and fearless enough to ask, “Can I?” before Louis nods and lets him manoeuvre them until he's lying draped over the entire back of the car and Harry's mouth lines up with his cock. Harry takes a few careful licks before he wraps his lips around it.

He always thought when he did this it would feel like a service to the other person, something to give _them_ pleasure, but he couldn't have been more wrong. This, half-kneeling on Louis' lower legs, bending down to reach his cock in an uncomfortable position, surpasses all of his fantasies. The way Louis, who is usually so controlled, even during sex, is letting out little moans and whimpers, all because of _Harry_ , is honestly too much for him.

Louis starts pulling at his hair after a while and Harry lets out an embarrassing whimper before he's being pulled up.

“Oh, you like that,” Louis pants, but also, for some reason, still has the energy to _smirk_ at Harry.

Harry wants to move back down, make sure Louis stops being able to string together coherent sentences, but an overwhelming smell of omega slick has started to fill the car. Harry inhales deeply, trying not to come on the spot. He can't help himself though. Instead of taking Louis' cock back into his mouth, he pushes one of Louis' legs up, dives his head down and laps at Louis' hole. The taste of his slick is overwhelmingly _Louis_ , every fantasy that Harry never admitted to himself he had coming to life in this moment.

“Please, Louis, can I-” he breathes in awe, not quite sure what he'd do if Louis denied him. He _needs_ to taste him.

Luckily for him, Louis nods, babbling, “Yes Harry, come on, being so good for me,” and pulls his hair again.

So Harry really starts to eat him out, until there's nothing else on his mind except for _Louis' smell_ and the taste of _Louis' slick_ and _Louis_.

And then, after a good two or three minutes of this, Louis just _comes_. Just on Harry's tongue, shaking and moaning above him.

“That was amazing, darling, where did you learn that?” Louis asks breathlessly, a hint of something darker sneaking into his voice.

“Nowhere,” Harry breathes and almost starts laughing with relief. He made Louis _come_. “Just wanted to make you proud.”

Louis turns to him, looking almost incredulous. Then the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, but his eyes look kind of troubled, in the way that they sometimes do when he looks at Harry.

“I always am,” Louis replies softly and cuddles Harry closer to him.

 

 

Two days after that incident, Harry breaks his “no-sleeping-with-Louis-until-his-feelings-are-sorted-out”-rule for the second time. They are at Louis' house, his whole family asleep, a fact that makes Harry feel even guiltier than being secretly in love and exploiting Louis' kindness.

 

“Louis,” he whispers after sex, long after he thinks Louis has fallen asleep.

“Yeah?” Louis answers though, with a clear voice, decidedly not asleep.

Harry gulps. He wasn't actually prepared to have this conversation. “Is it hard for you to tell me what to do? During sex, I mean.”

He expected many answers, but Louis starting to laugh wasn't one of them.

“Why would it be hard?” he giggles. “It's not like you're a horrible student. I'd even say you're an excellent one. Gold star, Harold.”

Harry blushes furiously, but refuses to budge.

“No,” he tries to talk through the embarrassment of Louis praising him for his sexual abilities, the embarrassment of this whole conversation really. “Because, don't you want to be... submissive during sex?”

That, at least, shuts Louis' giggles up immediately, but somehow it doesn't feel like that's a good thing.

“No,” he starts slowly. For a moment he looks actually offended, but then seems to think about it for a moment and slowly starts to look amused again. At least Harry can see the corners of his mouth twitch. “Haz, darling, do you want to be in control when we have sex?”

Harry doesn't know if his face can get any hotter at this point. He slowly shakes his head.

“And I don't want to _not_ be in control. Perfect fit. Now stop asking stupid questions and get to doing something better.”

Harry doesn't know if it's that easy. Every stereotype about omegas and alphas he's ever internalized is playing through his mind right now. It's hard to let go of some things, even if the evidence that omegas can enjoy being dominant during sex is right there in front of him.

He's just never thought about it that way, that of course, he's not the only omega who experiences something different from the norm. He doesn't get wet easily. Louis likes to tell other people ( _him, hopefully only him_ , Harry's traitorous mind supplies) what to do during sex. That doesn't make either of them less of an omega.

“So, do you want to or not?” Louis interrupts his thoughts.

“What?” Harry asks confusedly, still a bit shaken by his earlier epiphany.

“Have sex again? I could do that thing with my tongue again that you liked so much last time,” Louis promises with a sly grin.

And, the thing is, Harry _knows_ it's a bad idea to let Louis fuck him again, before he's admitted his feelings. It feels an awful lot like lying to him. But, he's only human. Which is why, when he's naked and being held down into the bedding a minute later, he tries to push all thoughts of romantic complicated feelings out of his mind and just enjoy the moment. It doesn't work that well.

He suspects sex with Louis might already be irrevocably tangled up with his love for him.

 

 

Of course, sooner or later something has to give.

Before second period, when Louis talked Harry into meeting up in the theatre storage room after school, it had seemed like a great idea.

Now, snogging on a prop that almost looks like a bed if you squint, Harry is not so sure anymore. Louis' smell is all around him, everywhere, and for the first time Harry doesn't know if that's a good thing. He just can't _think_ , he can't get a grip on his feelings this way.

He just can't keep falling into this _mess_ their arrangement has become. The mess _Harry_ made it into by making Louis do this in the first place, by having stupid feelings _for another omega_.

“You're so beautiful,” Louis whispers, a thoughtless, throwaway comment mumbled in between kisses. For some reason, that's what does it though.

Harry stops kissing him and starts to shake his head, tears immediately welling up.

“I can't,” Harry gets out, almost choking on the words. “Louis, I just can't do it anymore.”

Louis immediately stops touching him altogether, which is quite an achievement, considering a few seconds ago they were literally tangled up in one another.

Harry isn't brave enough to look at Louis, but Louis' voice sounds scared when he asks, “Is it... Did I hurt you?” They are both standing now, mutually realizing that this is not a conversation they should have lying down on a small piece of wood. Louis looks like he's still trying to get more space between them, a scared animal whose flight instincts have kicked in.

“No,” Harry blurts out, even though it's a half-lie, it _does_ hurt, though not physically. And it is his own fault, for giving his naive, treacherous heart away so easily. “No, you're perfect and wonderful, and you deserve only good things, but–”

“But you're tired of experimenting and want space to find an alpha,” Louis finishes his sentence, with a tone of finality.

“What?” Harry gapes. “Is that what _you_ want?”

Now Louis actually looks _angry_. “No. I know our stupid society likes to pretend we don't exist, but there are actually omegas out there who _don't_ want to date alphas.”

Harry blinks several times. “You're an olo?” he asks, trying not to let hope creep into his voice.

Louis huffs. “Yes, I thought the past few weeks might have given you an idea of that. But it's okay, I know for you it was just friendly fooling around until an alpha came along,” he shrugs, but Harry can see that he's just pretending, trying to play tough so Harry won't see how hurt he is.

“No,” Harry whisper-shouts, desperately trying to get this conversation back on track. “No,” he repeats a bit louder. Louis has taken a few steps back again, almost like he's getting ready to bolt.

“You've gotten it completely wrong,” Harry adds with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I like omegas as well. Only omegas, maybe. I don't know,” he can feel himself starting to get nervous, it's like he's doing a public speech but has forgotten all of the words.

“The point is,” he takes a deep breath. “The point is that I like you, Louis. Love you, even. I'm completely in love with you.” He gets all of that out in a jumbled mess of words.

“So, that's what I wanted to tell you before you interrupted me so rudely,” he finishes awkwardly, with a little nervous chuckle at the end.

Louis just stares at him, his expression something close to shock. Harry is unsure if that's a good or a bad thing.

“You're wrong,” Louis scoffed then, and of all the things he could have responded with, Harry didn't expect him to say _that_.

“Wrong?” he asks, confused.

“You're not in love with me. You can't be. You don't even,” Louis lets out a frustrated breath. “You don't even know if you like omegas yet, you said it yourself.”

“That's not what I said at all,” Harry responds weakly, but he almost knows that there's no point. Louis seems to have made up his mind already.

“I'm sorry,” Louis says, his expression closed up. “I can't do this.”

Then, he turns around and leaves. Harry lets himself sink back on that uncomfortable prop bed that was much more comfortable when they were snogging on it a few minutes ago.

He doesn't quite understand how everything had gone that wrong that quickly.

 

 

Harry doesn't mean to start moping around and feel sorry for himself again, but Louis has a way to set off that reaction in him.

There's also the added problem that, before they started this mess, Louis was not only his best friend, but also pretty much his only one. Harry's a bit ashamed of it, but he always felt like he didn't really need anyone else as long as he had him.

His number one choice of people to call when an idiot boy broke his heart would be _Louis_.

Because that's not an option right now, he opts for Liam, a casual acquaintance he knows from school choir.

Since Liam's an alpha, they have maybe not been the talk-about-boy-troubles type of friends before, but Harry's ready to change that.

Liam seems to be a bit clumsy when it comes to comforting, but once Harry's explicitly demanded a few hugs, quite willing to provide him with the necessary shoulder to cry on.

He also seems to have a strong opinion about what Harry refers to as The Incident, constantly trying to get Harry to stop moping and talk to Louis again.

“I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding,” Liam insists, after Harry has finished crying his way through The Notebook for the second time in two days.

Harry scoffs. “I've told him that I was in love with him and he said I was _wrong_. I don't know what's there to misunderstand.”

“It just doesn't seem like Louis,” Liam repeats. “Which is not to say that I think he's not being a complete dick. Just storming out like that without a word is rude and you deserve better.”

Regardless, Liam keeps repeating that he thinks that Harry should talk to Louis even if he's being an idiot and won't come to him. He doesn't budge on that position for the rest of the evening.

What does he know, though. He only knows Louis from football practice and that's maybe an even worse place to get to know people than school choir.

For some reason, Liam's words stick with him, though. There's maybe still some treacherous part of Harry that still believes in the both of them, if not in their relationship, then in their friendship. He's not ready to let that go quite yet.

 

 

When he finds himself in front of Louis' house the next evening though, Harry's starting to regret all of his life choices. This was a stupid idea, Louis probably hates him and wants nothing to do with him anymore, why is he such an–

Louis opens the door. He looks soft and cuddly, with his messy hair, joggers and oversized sweatshirt. His mouth forms a little 'o' when he spots Harry.

“Hi,” Harry gets out. _Wow, very eloquent_ , he curses himself.

“Hi,” Louis answers. Then Harry proceeds to just stare at him like an idiot, until Louis clears his throat. “Did you want something?”

Harry gulps. That sounded a lot harsher than he expected Louis to be. He just has to remember that he's not the only one in the wrong here.

“I'm sorry,” Harry starts. “I know I overwhelmed you with my feelings and I wanted to apologize.”

Louis sighs and steps aside. “Come in. We can talk in the living room, my family is out to see a movie.”

“Didn't want to go with them?” Harry asks while he follows Louis in, throwing his jacket on the growing pile and kicking his shoes off, just like he always does when he comes here, a place almost as familiar as his own home.

Louis just shrugs. “Wasn't in the mood,” he mumbles. The conversation dies down again.

They sit down on the couch in silence for a while, until Harry can't take it anymore.

“You could apologize, too, you know,” he blurts, blushing immediately after. He's not that blunt, usually.

Louis opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again, seeming unsure.

Harry takes that as his opportunity to just keep talking.

“You know it's not fair,” he says, a lot more built up anger in his tone than he was anticipating.

“It's fine if you don't want me back, absolutely. But you always do this! When I first asked you to practice with me, which was, I have to admit, not one of my best moments, you just disappeared for a while and left me to feel awful about myself. This is the same thing!” He feels his voice getting louder in spite of himself. He's afraid to look at Louis, afraid to see his reaction. Best to get this over with first.

“So, you don't have to like me back, and I know I scared you away with,” Harry gulps. “With saying I was in love with you,” he pushes through. As embarrassing as it had been to put his unreturned feelings out there, he would never, _could never_ , take it back.

“But you don't get to tell me that I am wrong about who I like. It's not fair and makes my feelings seem unimportant, because _you_ have apparently already decided what they are.”

Harry takes a few deep breaths, deflating. He doesn't know where all of that came from, but he's glad it's out there.

It's silent for a bit again, Louis staring at him with wide eyes. “Harry,” he then says, a hint of desperation in his tone. “I'm so sorry, I absolutely didn't mean to do that. And I should know how horrible it is to have your identity questioned. It's awful and I'm sorry I was the one who made you go through that.”

He looks genuinely ashamed, so Harry just nods and squeezes his hand once, a silent signal that he's accepting Louis' apology.

Louis doesn't seem like he's finished yet, though.

“And,” he starts, looking like he's preparing himself for something. “I lied to you, because I was scared and I didn't quite believe you.” He almost whispers the last words so that Harry has to strain himself to understand them.  
“I never thought you could _possibly_ like me back. When I first realized I liked omegas you were _always_ the one I wanted to be with the most, always the one I was thinking about.” Louis blushes at that.

“You were my best friend and I wanted nothing more than to be with you. But I told myself you would never want to be with me, because I wanted to spare myself the disappointment. Telling myself you only liked alphas was the only thing that got me through that horrible crush. Because then it was at least something out of my control.”

Harry feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Every part of him wants to just kiss Louis senseless, reassure him that all of his insecurities are _stupid_ because Harry could never like anyone other than him. He knows he needs to wait though, needs to let Louis finish.

“So,” Louis starts again and takes both of Harry's hands in his. “I love you, too. I'm in love with you. And I should have never gone along with this stupid practice thing because it was just an excuse for me to sleep with you.”

Now, Harry just _has_ to kiss him, so he does, pouring all of his love and everything he felt in the last few weeks into it.

Louis kisses back softly for a while, before he gently leans away again.

“Harry,” he says, his voice a bit too serious for the fun activities they could be doing instead. “I can't promise I won't be insecure or irrational ever again, but I can promise you that I will stop running away from now on, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry answers, his voice wobbling. Now that he and Louis have actually talked, the enormity of everything he's been feeling in the last few minutes comes crashing down on him.

“Can we go back to kissing now?” he smiles at him shakily, trying to pretend he isn't getting teary again.

Louis cups his face with his hands and laughs softly. “Yeah, darling. We can go back to kissing now.”

 

 

They don't sleep with each other that night, mostly because Louis' family comes home eventually and Harry still feels guilty about the last time they did something with them in the house.

A week later though, Harry's mum and stepdad are invited to a wedding and won't be home for the rest of the evening, so they plan to take advantage of that.

They've both told their families about them almost immediately after they made it official, momma's boys that they are, and they were both overjoyed with the news, not even mentioning the fact that they were both omegas. It raised some questions about staying over though, and Anne and Jay both agreed that it was only allowed on weekends and when one of them was present from now on. So _technically_ , they are already breaking that rule.

On the other hand, they both agree that they did things in the completely wrong order, but taking things slow makes no sense with the amount of sex they had already.

They also agree to start again by doing something familiar, something that gets both of them turned on like few other things: Fingering. Harry loves it, because he can't get enough of the sensation, loves Louis' fingers in him, loves the cheesy feelings of anchoring and _belonging_ it gives him.

Louis tells him he loves watching him fall apart because of something he's doing, he's making Harry feel this way.

 

So they take their time, slowly undressing each other, kissing a lot and touching the whole time. Harry feels almost _starved_ for Louis' touch, feels like he's going to die every time they separate for a few moments.

Louis is, much like the first time they did this, still gentle with him, like he's something precious. But this time his touches are surer, he now knows how to make Harry moan and squirm.

Harry has acquired quite a bit of that knowledge about Louis as well, but after a while he stops being able to apply it, stops being able to think at all. That, too, feels like the first time they did this, only that the tiny, unsure part of Harry has truly shut up now.

Louis is his _boyfriend_. He trusted him when he was 'only' his best friend, but it's nothing compared to the way he can let go now, safe in the knowledge that Louis will take care of him.

“Harry, darling, are you relaxed right now?” Louis asks, his voice soft in the way it always goes for Harry during sex.

“Yes,” Harry moans, feeling desperately turned on, but in a deep, content way, that feels like it's either gonna last forever or explode before it carries him into sleep. Louis' fingers don't stop playing with his hole though, reminding him to stay in the here and now, anchoring him.

“I know,” Louis says, something that almost sounds like awe in his voice. “I didn't have to add lube for a while now. You're gushing, darling.

Harry's eyes fly open. “Louis,” he almost sobs. “Did I–”

“Yeah,” he muses. “Got so wet for me, darling. Love you all the time, you know that. Love you right now as well, just doing so good for me.”

And now Harry can feel it, can feel the slide of Louis' fingers getting easier, can feel himself almost relaxing further. All of that worrying and all he needed was just to completely let go of the fear.

“Will always love you, no matter what, baby. You're always perfect for me.” With that, Louis twists his fingers in a particularly nice way and Harry just _comes_ , without Louis touching his dick at all, just from him rubbing his spot over and over again.

Afterwards, it's definitely nicer than before. Not only are they not afraid to cuddle each other close anymore, no, their after sex talk is now apparently exclusively confessions about how much they love each other, how meaningful all of this is to both of them.

Harry thinks he could get used to it.

 

 

 

Over time, as their relationship progresses from a high-school romance to a serious, committed relationship, it still takes a while to get Harry relaxed enough to get wet. Louis sometimes sees it as his own personal challenge, pampering Harry enough to get him to breathe evenly, then eating him out for hours, making him come several times, until Louis doesn't only taste his own spit anymore but Harry's wetness.

Sometimes he gets out Harry's favourite glittery pink vibrator, teasing him for hours before Harry's body produces wetness from sheer overstimulation and a general inability to think. He loves wearing it in public as well because no one is any the wiser until the moment Harry starts producing slick, and the smell is like Louis' own personal signal that it's time to get him home.

When they don't have the time though, they make due in other ways. Harry loves getting fucked even if he isn't wet and they have to use a lot of lube.

And sometimes, they both have this _thing_ where they get off on Harry giving Louis pleasure without getting any himself. Louis loves to sit on Harry's cock and tell him about how he has no choice but to use him tonight, because he's just made to fuck Louis and that's why it would be useless for him to get wet, when Louis just needs his cock and his fingers and maybe his mouth.

They both come especially hard after times like these.

“Love you just as you are,” Louis always whispers afterwards. “Whether you get wet or don't, whether I need to use lube to fuck you or you fuck me. You're perfect for me. Always perfect for me.”

Harry always believes him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Title taken from "Good For You" by Selena Gomez.  
> You can leave comments or kudos here, or reblog the [fic post](http://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com/post/183874932135/fic-title-make-you-never-wanna-leave-pairing), if you liked it!
> 
> (I'm here on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fairytalelights) and on [Tumblr](https://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com), if you wanna say hi.)


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